Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Amelia. She slumped onto the worn armchair, the familiar floral print suddenly mocking her. David, usually so boisterous, had been unusually quiet all evening, humming softly as he’d prepared dinner. That in itself wasn't odd, but the words he’d chosen, the lilting cadence…it had all felt wrong, like a carefully constructed lie.

She stared at the open dictionary lying on the coffee table. Spanish. His Spanish textbook. It was her native tongue. Years of trying to teach him basic phrases, all met with blank stares and a quick change of subject. Now this.

A dull ache throbbed in her temples. She traced the outline of a picture in the book, a colorful image of a family laughing at a picnic, just like the one they used to have. She closed her eyes.